


Bound

by rose_griffes



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M, attempted angry sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-05
Updated: 2008-05-05
Packaged: 2019-10-08 16:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17389775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_griffes/pseuds/rose_griffes
Summary: She can see it, but it's still not there, still not right.  The paints smear on the wall, on the putty knife, on her hair and skin, too.  Kara feels like her vision is smeared as well, across the backs of her eyelids, in her frakked-up brain, details getting more blurry all the time.  She tries to focus on it, the tangible feeling she'd had before, that Earth was within reach, but she comes up with nothing.(episode insert fic for 4.03 'Ties that Bind')





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

> most of the dialogue and action is from the scene with Kara and Sam in the episode 'Ties That Bind'

She can see it, but it's still not there, still not right. The paints smear on the wall, on the putty knife, on her hair and skin, too. Kara feels like her vision is smeared as well, across the backs of her eyelids, in her frakked-up brain, details getting more blurry all the time. She tries to focus on it, the tangible feeling she'd had before, that Earth was within reach, but she comes up with nothing.

They're all pushing at her--the crew, even Helo and Sam. Where are they going, why the circles, and she can't make them see what she's looking for; she can't even see it clearly herself anymore. Twenty-two days and nothing to show for it.

That's when Sam comes in and spins the hatch closed behind him. "Kara, what the hell is the matter with you?" Ignoring him, she keeps painting. "'Cause the way you're holing up in here, you're making people wonder."

He's asking for reassurances, or maybe he wants to reassure her. He was good at that--the humorous line to relieve tension, the gentle pressure to confide, the physical action when she couldn't take the noises in her own brain. But that's not who she is anymore. Maybe she never was.

"Let 'em. Frankly they're starting to bug me as much as I bug them. Frak 'em."

"You know, some of us actually volunteered for this mission."

Each word he says is a reminder: that he wants her to rely on him, that he wants to turn to her, and she can't face that now, not with everything else moving around in her head.

"Somebody named you? Is that what this is about, Sam, you want to know what the deal is with us, with our marriage? Well, it didn't make much sense to begin with, makes even less now." She keeps painting. It's always easier than she wishes, saying words to divide them; a natural tendency.

Sam leans in and grabs her putty knife. "I don't buy that. I don't think you believe a single frakking word you're saying." His tone is fierce; he throws the tool against the wall and continues: "You're just scared. You see that?" He grabs her arm and pulls it next to his, circles lined up on their wing tattoos. "You see this, remember those? You remember when we got them? That's what's real, that's a part of who we are, that is a part of who _you_ are, whether you want to admit it or not."

Kara pulls her arm away from him and lets the words slide out, without planning or forethought. She takes the cruelest particle of truth and embellishes it, makes it a weapon. Mama taught her well. "Dumb motherfrakker. I only married you because it was safe and it was easy, Sam. And you were just pathetic enough to go along with it."

He points his finger when she says it, like he's about to talk. Instead he looks at her, his expression a mixture of disbelief and consternation.

"So get the frak out."

He stays in place, eyes dark. That's what scares her now--he was tied to her and won't break that bond willingly, even though she's destroying him... or she's been destroyed, because if she's a cylon, she'd rather be nothing. Mixing half-truths and lies--that was what Leoben did, until it was all a blur and she couldn't see true from false anymore. Sam once told her he would love her anyway. He's standing in front of her and she wants nothing from him, no love, no acceptance.

"Get out," she yells, and starts pushing him toward the hatch. "Get out! Get..." Her words get muffled as she lets the anger loose and pushes hard.

They're across the room; she starts to swing her arms again and Sam holds her elbows. He won't let her hit him but he still doesn't leave. Standing next to the hatch, he smells like sweat, like Sam. It's so familiar.

One part of her wants him, always had; another thinks that this is the worst idea ever, using him after telling him their relationship meant nothing. But it's what he deserved for loving her--nothing.

"I don't want to fight, Sam," she tells him. "I want to frak." Staying close to him, she puts her hands on his shoulders.

He doesn't say anything, so she keeps talking. "You don't get it, do you. I'm not the same girl you married." His head is bowed down. Leaning closer, her lips are almost touching his. He doesn't move.

"All I want to do right now is frak. Really frak like it's the end of the world and nothing else matters." She leans forward and grazes her lips against his; he turns his head away slightly and exhales.

"So come on, Sam. Make me feel something." Brushing her lips against his cheek, she tilts her head up and gently kisses his forehead.

Sam can never back down from a challenge. Kara whispers, "I dare you."

Suddenly he pushes her back toward the bed. She smiles at her victory and ignores the voice inside that tells her to stop.

Arriving at the bed, he turns her and she falls back to the mattress. Scooting up, he cradles her head in his hands and kisses her. No. This means nothing--she's already established that, set that boundary. When he takes her hands, she pulls one free and scratches him--he's moving too slow. She wants this fast, no time to think. He grabs her hands again and they wrestle and her mind flashes to dozens of Pyramid games they'd played on New Caprica.

"Come on, Sam," she tells him, and her tone is deliberately harsh.

He stops and looks at her--her hands are held tightly in his, over her head, his body pushing hers down. She's immobile and not sure if she likes it.

"Kara, do you even want this?" He stares at her face like she's indecipherable.

"Yeah. And so do you."

"Then shut up." He says it with no rancor, just a matter-of-fact tone. Abruptly standing up, he pulls her up as well. "Get undressed."

Watching him as she pulls off her tanks, she wonders what's going on in his head. Instead of removing his clothes, he leans over the bed and starts grabbing cans of paint. "Sam, what are you-"

"You don't want to waste them, do you?" While she removes the rest of her clothes, he carefully moves all of the cans to the corner of the room and places the lids on them. Just one more reason why she loves him (and hates him)--then she reminds herself that this means nothing.

She doesn't say anything, but it means nothing when she helps him undress, nothing when they stand by the bed embracing and she shivers when he runs his hands down her spine. Nothing, when he lets her climb onto him in the bed so that she won't have to look up and see that godsdamn painted sky over the bed as they frak.

His face is a blur in front of her as she leans down and kisses him again.


End file.
